


Queer as Folk

by jadey36



Category: Robin Hood BBC
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadey36/pseuds/jadey36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Robin Hood poem</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queer as Folk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "Hoodland" poetry challenge over on Livejournal.

**Disclaimer:** Robin Hood belongs to the BBC/Tiger Aspect. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement intended. No monies are being made. 

~

**Queer as Folk**

Are you sitting comfortably?  
Then, friends, let me begin  
To tell a tale of Nottingham  
And the folk who live therein 

There’s Wilfred, he’s the silent scribe  
The best for miles around  
I haven’t seen him lately  
Folk say he’s gone to ground 

There’s Hettie, she’s a pretty nun  
Pious, mild and meek  
Takes confession in the forest  
Several times a week

There’s Will, the barber-surgeon  
Deals in hair and gums  
Says trade is booming lately  
Since expanding into tongues

There’s Jessie, she’s a seamstress  
Though she can’t sew any good  
I hear she’s changed vocation  
And now she’s good with wood 

There’s Matilda, she’s the local witch  
Who dabbles in strange herbs  
The latest one’s called snorkelling  
At least, that’s what I’ve heard 

There’s Tom, the tattoo artist  
They say he comes from Slough  
Once plied the castle with his trade  
But he’s doing skin grafts now 

There’s Kate, the potter’s daughter  
Who’s lived here for some years  
She has a lovely smile  
But a voice that hurts your ears 

There’s Henry, he’s a funny bloke  
Some say that he’s a dork  
He’s always at the butcher’s shop  
Demanding holy pork

There’s Caty, who makes necklaces  
Just the one design  
Says Lady Marian buys them all  
Though, God alone knows why

There’s Peter, he’s the baker  
Proud his loaves are light  
No one likes them very much  
But he says they’re good in flight

And who am I, you’re asking  
Well, I’ll tell you who I be  
Second guard, from the left  
Till the sheriff clobbers me


End file.
